Creation, Illusion
by SecretaryOfHell
Summary: "For the hundredth time Thorin, I don't want your gold, and I certainly don't want your throne!" Brona groaned, smoothing out the creases in her brow. The damn dwarves' stubborness will kill her before any dragon would get the chance. The witch was content with living her wistfully idle life, separate from society - so why did Gandalf have to ruin it all?
1. Chapter 1

Thorin Oakenshield's head was cradled in his clenched hands. This entire journey had just been one disaster after another. They were barely two weeks out of Bree, and the company's resources were almost quite literally thrown away. In some part of himself, he knew it wasn't Kili's fault, but it was so easy to place the blame on him. He was the one leading the pony, he should have realised how close it was to the river. How the creature couldn't simply bound over the rocks and logs like the young dwarrow could. His mistake had caused to pony to trip and tumble into the river, along with the majority of their food supply.

So now here he sat, distanced from the rest of the company lest he say something he would regret. I never should have brought him along, he thought as his hard gaze settled on the lad, who sat apart from the group. He was apparently on watch, sitting against a tree on the outskirts of the clearing - But his knees were pulled up to his chest and his chin bent low. The lad was absolutely devastated. This was his chance to prove himself, and he had already thoroughly messed it up.

Thorin ran his hand over his face, inhaling deeply. The wizard was stomping around the fire ranting and raving about dwarves and their idiocy, which wasn't helping matters in the slightest. Movement from the corner of his eye shifted Thorins attention to the hobbit as he approached Thorin's distraught nephew. Mr Baggins hesitantly laid a hand on his shoulder and spoke softly. Although he couldn't hear what was being said, Thorin felt a slight warmth well up in his chest when Kili smiled widely, tears still shimmering in his eyes.

"Thorin!" The wizard was becoming far too comfortable with barking orders, it seemed. Yet Thorin nodded at Gandalf as he sat across from him. Gandalf leaned forward conspiratorially, with all the subtlety of a young man gambling for the first time.

"You may not agree with what I'm about to suggest, but I believe that it is our only option." The grey wizard searched for a reaction on his stony face. "The point stands that we are too far out of Bree to go back. Luckily for you, I have a - I suppose you could call her a friend - who lives in the forest, not even a day out of the way of our path!"

Thorin prided himself on being intuitive. And this plan that Gandalf suggested was setting off every warning bell in his body. It was just all too eyes narrowed into slits.

"Who, exactly, is this friend you speak of? And why would she be living so far out of town?"

"Well, I doubt you would know her, so her name would hold no weight in this conversation. I've crossed paths with her many a time, and she's a rather introverted person. She prefers to live alone due to her work, among other things."

Thorin's suspicion grew "And what line if work is she in?"

Gandalf flicked his hand aloofly "She dabbles in a number of thing. For the most part, she's a herbalist, of sorts."

Thorin slumped forward with a sigh, scratching at his beard. "I suppose, at this point, she is our only option." He hated to admit it, all the more so now as he watched the wizard shift smugly. Yet, they had very little supplies, and he wasn't certain how far the next town was. He wasn't going to let something like starvation kill his company, not when a solution was within reach. "I am very glad you see it my way," Gandalf grinned toothily. "We'll set out in the morning - if we go now we would arrive much later than is polite."

As Gandalf walked away with a renewed bounce to his step, Thorin watched as he flagrantly addressed the company with their new plans. The uproar over visiting the wizards mysterious friend was expected and Thorin found himself wondering how much the wizard actually valued courtesy. Once again, his head dropped into his palms.

The makeshift hammock swayed gently in the breeze. Brona's fingertips grazed the dewy grass as it rippled softly in the wind. The glittering stars overhead had just began to fade and the sky was starting to turn a balmy shade of copper. Brona was the image of pure comfort, wrapped up in a large tartan blanket with one freckled arm resting on her stomach. The fluttering of wings pulled her from her thoughts. A tiny grey moth landed on her fingers with a jolt. She raised it up to her face, getting a good look at the creature. Its intricate wings gleamed dimly in the fading moonlight. She very nearly dropped it when it spoke in a tiny yet clear voice.

I require your services. Will arrive midday. Gandalf the grey.

She hadn't heard from the grey wizard in years, and he plans to show up at her home, totally uninvited? The gall!

It was moments like this where Brona wished she was more assertive.

With a sigh she rolled onto the dewy grass. Her arms stretched high above her head as she walked towards her squat home, her bare feet burying themselves into the shaggy grass with every step. She will need to prepare.

Brona bounced the knife in her hands for a moment, glancing into the bowl of water. Gandalfs group consisted of 13 dwarves and, curiously, a hobbit, as far as she could tell. She had been observing them for some time now. They had stumbled through the woods, and had gotten as far as the gateway. Now, they were waiting in the clearing, not all too sure where to go from there. They have been there for almost thirty minutes now. Gandalf knew how to get to her home, so why was he dawdling about? What exactly was he waiting for? He was already helping himself to her property, so it wasn't an invitation he was looking for.

She flung the stone knife in her scrying bowl, making the images ripple and disappear. She should have realised. He wasn't waiting for an invitation- but an entrance. A welcome, even. Brona huffed - the old wizard always had a flare for the dramatic. She smoothed the tense lines between her brows with her fingers. These guests of hers better be out of her property within a few days. Not like the last time Gandalf 'visited'. She was at her wits end by the time he had finally left - almost three months longer than he initially said he'd stay.

With a sigh she pushed through the sheer ribbons of her door, stepping out into the sunlight. Better go meet her guests. Halfway there did she have a realisation, and turn back with a snort. She should probably put some clothes on.

 _So this little thing has been bouncing around my head for some time, and i've only now gotten actual motivation to write it out! i really hope you enjoy Brona and her journey. If this does even mildly ok and when its finished i have an idea for a sequel (which could go one of two ways, but ill go onto that later)! Also, im rather horrible with titles, so it may me prone to changing._


	2. Chapter 2

Bilbo's gaze darted around the clearing. Tension had started to mount amongst the company. Gandalf had insisted, swore to the heavens and back that he knew the way and that he just needed a moment to grasp his bearings. That moment had stretched into fifteen minutes, into thirty, into over an hour. Yet the old man had stopped walking all of a sudden and just perched on a massive gnarled tree root. Gandalf wasn't particularly tired, he admitted to Bilbo, but he claimed that this was as far as they should go for the moment.

Bilbo had no complaints though. He wasn't used to walking such distances, having lived a typical halfling life. He found he was easily fatigued, compared to the rest of the company. Oh how he wished he had even a fraction of their endurance. Alas, everyone had to start somewhere, didn't they? That's how Bofur had assured him anyway.

Despite the companies grumbling and pacing, the area they were in was rather beautiful. It was a little field, blanketed with emerald grass. Aromatic flowers of every colour of the rainbow sprouted from the ground. Their petals were softer than any other Bilbo had ever felt. The clearing - although, to Bilbo, the little field did seem more like a garden - was surrounded by an assortment of thick trees. Bilbo had never seen such a variety, rowan beside willow beside ash and so on. Curiously, if he squinted and pushed aside some shrubbery, he could just about make out faint carvings in the trunks and branches.

Bilbo's heart nearly stopped when the air around him pulsed and rippled, much like someone airing out a sheet in the wind. The dwarves all let out battle cries, unsheathing their weapons and dropping into various stances. Bilbo found himself bustled to the back of the crowd of dwarrows, beside Ori who was clutching his ink splattered journal to his chest.

"That's hardly necessary." The voice that wafted through the clearing was light yet hoarse, with a slight lilt. Bilbo desperately tried to peer over and peak through the mass of dwarrows, but to no avail.

"Lower your weapons, or you'll find yourself without lodgings."

"Well? Do as the young woman says! She's our host." Gandalf barked, still atop his perch. The company grumbled, but did so hesitantly after a jerky nod from Thorin. The dwarven King broke his silence by speaking in kuzdhul, much to the hobbits annoyance,but the company began to file into a straight line and he took his place between Ori and Dwalin. He could finally connect the voice to a figure and upon laying eyes on her, Bilbo found his breath caught in his throat.

She was the oddest human he had ever seen, despite his limited interaction with the race of man. She was rather tall, although from Bilbos perspective that wasn't hard, with unusually sharp features and wide, unblinking eyes. She was barefoot, and wore a rather short, slightly sheer royal blue dress, embroidered with stars and suns. It was held together by a tan fabric belt. Bilbos ears grew ashamedly warm and he ducked his head. He noticed a number of other younger dwarves do the same and his embarrassment increased tenfold. What was truly odd however, was her hair. Or lack thereof. Her head was covered in ginger stubble. The rest of the company muttered at this observation, none too quietly, to Bilbo's mortification.

If she heard their comments, she paid them no heed as Gandalf sprang from his perch, bounding towards her in a few short steps. He clasped her hand, bending low at the waist to press a chaste kiss to her knuckles. She arched a delicate brow, but couldn't squash the light smile tugging at her lips. The wizard murmured something and Bilbo strained his ears to hear, but to no avail.

Thorin strode forward to stop before her. Bilbo held his breath. Although she was easily twice his height, the dwarf was an intimidating figure. Yet once again, she seemed entirely unfazed.

"Thorin Oakenshield, at your service." He bowed at the waist and Bilbo sighed in relief.

The woman seemed to eye the dwarf curiously before bowing her head, "Brona, at yours. I hear you've had a tiresome journey."

Thorin answered, casting a glower in the wizards direction, evenly that yes, they had and he appreciates her agreement to accommodate them. The lady appraises him just as evenly with a hum, then turns on her heel and saunters towards the line of trees. Bilbo now noticed that there was a gap in the wall of branches that had previously been too thick to see through,let alone walk through. Branches arched far above their heads intertwining like lovers clasping fingers.

Brona cocked her head in the realisation that no one was following and flicked her hand, aloofly urging them to do so. This motion aggravated the company, and Bilbo nervously eyed Dwalin as he hissed to Thorin about her disrespect. "That utter wench." He had growled. Even some of the more level headed members was in agreement with his assault on her character, if their shared muttering was any indication. Bilbo nervously pulled at his suspenders as he glanced at their host, desperately hoping she was oblivious to their jeers. It wouldn't do to have her first impression of them (and most importantly, him, as he was a Baggins, and he had a certain reputation to uphold) be negative, since they would be intruding on her home for however long they stay for. Something about her also unnerved Bilbo. Not in the way that he felt she would cut his throat while he slept. It was more the way she held herself. Despite her tattered clothes, there was something undoubtedly confidant and regal in her swaggered gait. She seemed clever, like there was more to her than meets the eye.

Brona led the odd group through the meadow. The leader, the famed Thorin Oakenshield of the line of Durin, walked beside her, easily keeping pace despite his shorter stride. She briefly glanced back, seeing a few members of the group lagging behind, mouths open in awe at the kaleidescope of colours surrounding them. She stifled a giggle, but couldn't help the good natured smile that spread across her face. She didn't think she was a particularly vain woman, but she couldn't help the swelling of pride when people appraised her work with such open enthusiasm. She slowed her stride, so that the dwarf with the mittens could snip a poppy from the bushel and slide it into his heavy journal.

Finally, they crowned the hill and came within view of her home.A sprawling network of fences and railings encircled her decrepit home. Brona glanced back, stifling a chortle at the dwarves obvious slight distaste. She was entirely aware of how primitive her home seemed, how the architecture was mismatched and blocky, but, well, it was home! And it was entirely functional. She led the group through the rye fields with a slight bounce to her step, happy to finally be back in her home. She stopped in front of the main entrance to the 'guest' cabin- it was one of the few buildings with actual doors- and spun round to face the company, her chest puffed with hands resting on her hips. She didn't miss the majority's twitch towards their weapons. She suppressed an eye roll and took a deep breath, before flinging the doors open. "Welcome to my home, this is the guest house, where _you'll_ be staying.

You're free to stay as long as you like but," she raised a hand in Thorin's direction, noticing him about to speak "we can talk of that later. For now, rest, there are blankets and pillows in the cupboards. If there's anything you need, feel free to ask. And feel free to explore. Dinner will be ready in about an hour."

With that she swiftly exited, pulling the doors closed quickly. She slumped against the door, utterly exhausted. She heard a mixture of cheers and wary mutters from within, and felt her head fall against the wood with a heavy thunk. She could hardly wait until they left.


	3. Chapter 3

Bronas home was a mismatch of different buildings stacked atop one another, seemingly defying the laws of simple physics. At some parts of the house, the trees seemed to merge into the structure of her home. Bilbo had found a little room, more of an alcove really, whos walls were created from a twisted bark. There had been a large gnarled gap in the wall, completely open to the elements. Looking down through this had made Bilbo feel dizzy, and despite the otherwise comforting feel to the book lined room, the hobbit had all too eagerly fled to another area. Another thing about the herbalists abode: there were very few rooms that didn't have books lining the walls or stacked high on tables. Bilbo felt he could spend months here, and not even make a dent in reading them all.

The hobbit found himself entering a kitchen. He was back on the first floor in a room that was a large circular shape, with a hearth set into the light stone off to his right, a shut wooden door set on the wall on the far side of the room to it. Bundles of flowers and bunches of roots hung from a long bar set into the high ceiling, above a long wooden work table in the centre of the room. A merry whistling pulled his gaze to his host, who was watching him with a curious glint in her eye at another, much smaller work bench before an open window. She swept a bunch of cut carrots into an oversized cauldron beside her. "What do you think of my home, master Hobbit?" Bilbo thought that Brona's voice was rather lovely, if a bit hoarse. Yet, it suited her. He realised that he had been staring at her, and when she quirked a brow, he felt his ears grow warm. "Yes, its very interesting. To be honest, I'm just glad to have a warm roof over my head. I'm Bilbo Baggins, by the way at your service." He managed to stammer out, thumbing his suspenders. His face contorted, and he pulled his hand away to find dried mud smeared across his fingers. At least, he hoped it was mud.

"And at yours. There's a river out back, if you'd want to bathe and wash your clothes." She paused,eyes sweeping over the hobbit. "There's some hot springs as well, if that would interest you."

Bilbo stumbled over his words, thanking her for her continued hospitality and she beamed at him crookedly. She led him to an outcrop of smooth rocks a little ways from her house, where water from the river had pooled into a series of springs. To be truthful he had never bathed outdoors, and the concept of it unnerved him quite a bit. He turned to Brona, thanking her profusely with a shaky grin and she left to give him privacy.

Once she disappeared completely behind the rocks, he stripped quickly. Easing his stiff and aching body into the water, he almost groaned. The waters were hot, but not uncomfortable so. He had been travelling with the company for a little over two weeks, now that he finally had a few moments to himself did he realise how truly exhausted and dirty he was. The halfling lifted his arms out of the water with a slight. He poked and prodded at his biceps, and then his stomach. He had lost a considerable amount of weight already, and wasn't sure how to react. He had never heard of a Hobbit to be slight nor muscular. Yet, a Hobbit going on an adventure to reclaim a mountain from a dragon was unheard of, he thought with a disbelieving guffaw. He sighed happily and sank below the surface. He opened his eyes, watched as his locks floated lazily around above him. Through his sandy tendrils,he saw a shadows passed above him. He surged forward, breaking the surface of the still water with a gasp as the cool evening air burst around him.

"Mr Boggins! We were wondering where you had run off to!"

Suddenly, the previously still waters were filled to the brim with incredibly enthusiastic, incredibly dirty dwarves.

Brona had heard the splashing and the cries and laughter of the dwarves, so she had dumped the towels at the rocks and hurried back to the kitchen. The soups were now simmering above the fire, the chips and salads had been made and lay on a long table that she had dragged out into the open air and she had filled large elegant jugs with water but she stopped in her tracks. Dwarves were known for their drinking, yet, she didn't have much alcohol on hand. She had a few bottles of wine that she had been gifted with, but would that suffice? She shook her head, she would look around, but the wine would have to do.

She placed the tall bottles on the table beside a plate stacked with cheese and breadrolls. Food swamped the table but Brona still doubted that that would be enough. From what little interaction she had with Halflings, she knew that their appetites far surpassed her own. She had only been in the Shire for a short time, but she remembered the astonishment of watching the stout creatures eat, and eat and continue to eat. She couldn't recall how many meals they had a day, but the sheer amount of food had made her head whirl. She shrugged. "Too late now." She murmured as she heard the heavy footfalls of the dwarves getting steadily nearer.

She greeted then with a smile, gesturing towards the table. "Help yourselves!"

The dwarves swarmed the table with cheers, settling into seats and throwing food to one another. Brona retreated to the open doorway, watching the companions hoot and holler good naturedly with a slight smile tugging at her mouth. It had been a long time since her home had been this loud, she wasnt used to it and it was a jolt to the system but she found herself relishing the amicable atmosphere.

A hand grasped her elbow."You've been incredibly generous. Thank you, my dear." The Istari had barely aged a day since she last saw him. He looked just as wizened and shabby as he did two decades ago, and the mischievous twinkle in his eye remained. She nodded, patting his wrinkled hand "Anything for an old friend."

"Careful Brona! I might hold you to that." The wizard said with a laugh, lifting his pipe to his lips.

"No surprise there." She quipped with a snort. For a few moments, she watched as he blew smoke rings merrily "Gandalf-"

A ruckus drew her attention to the congregation of dwarves. She stared as a dwarrow wearing a weathered hat nimbly hopped up on the tables glossy surface. "C'mon, give us a song Bofur!" A young dwarrow - Brona cocked her head slightly, was he shaven? - cried out. Roars of agreement filled the spring air and with a sparkle in his eye, the hatted dwarf drew in a long breath.

" _I've been a wild rover for many a year_

 _And I've spent all my money on whiskey and beer_

 _And now I'm returning with gold in great store_

 _And I never will play the wild rover no more_

 _And it's no, nay, never_

 _No, nay, never, no more_

 _And I'll play the wild rover_

 _No never, no more..."_

At some point the dwarves had gotten up to stomp their feet and bound and skip around in some form of a jig. Their exuberance was contagious - Brona found herself clapping along and bopping her head side to side to the rhythm the dwarves formed. From the corner of her eye, she caught Gandalf staring at her with mirth. When she glanced to him, he walked away with a chortle.

"Perhaps you know some songs, my lady?" The young dwarf she noticed earlier had sidled up to her with a wide toothy grin, taking her hand in his own and pressing a light kiss across her knuckles.

"I'm afraid I don't, kind ser," she responded with a delighted laugh. "I'll leave the singing to your friend, lest you want to become deaf." She nodded at the dwarf, still singing and bouncing around atop the table.

"Rubbish! Your voice is as lovely as the famed choirs of the elven halls, I'm sure."

"You're too kind," She began, but was cut off by a low, smooth voice. "Kili, leave the lady be." Kili pouted, but bowed lowly and jumped back into the merriment of his friends. Thorin Oakenshield took his place beside her. "I would like to thank you once again for your hospitality, you did not need to go to such lengths."

"Nonsense." the silence that followed wasn't awkward exactly, but Brona found that Thorin's intense gaze was slightly unnerving.

"Is there something you wish to ask me?' She asked, smoothing her dress down.

" Gandalf seemed insistent on coming here" Brona rather enjoyed the dwarves voice, it was a perfect balance of silky smooth and a deep rumble. She could probably listen to him for hours, but she didn't appreciate his accusatory tone.

"That sounds like a question for Gandalf,"

She said, meeting his even gaze head on."Just enjoy tonight, we'll speak of business in the morning." She nodded at him, and before he could respond, swept inside, the beaded curtains clinking softly behind her.

"Are you enjoying my library, kind ser?" With a yelp Kili whirled around, eyes bulging and the leather bound book hidden behind his back. From where she was leaning against the doorframe, Brona quirked a brow. Laughing nervously, he dropped it onto a table beside him "I... I didn't mean to intrude-" She waved him off, reassuring him that no harm was done, that he and his kin were welcome to look around. He grinned, his confidence seemingly renewed "Yes. Its all very impressive, I've never heard of some of these scholars."

"Oh? I wouldn't have pegged you as the studious type."

"I'm not, not really. But my mother is, she would tell me about everything she read and the writer's life stories too," the young dwarrow rolled his eyes fondly. "She would have loved to see all this."

Brona smile softened, he obviously missed her very much. It was sweet, she can't remember the last time she heard someone talk about their mother with such love. "What was it you were reading?"

His cheeks turned red and he scratched the back of his neck as he picked up the book with his other hand, showing her the cover.

Much to my mothers disappointment I much preferred stories of adventures and such, but I admit that I do have a fondness for poetry." Brona positively cooed - he was utterly adorable. The book he held out was a collection of poems, specifically love poems. It had been gifted to her by a friend of hers, back when he was first teaching her to read and write Common.

She grinned. "Don't worry, I'll keep your secret." She said with a conspiratory wink. He beamed back at her, and they crumpled into amicable laughter.

The pair spent much of the morning that way, chattering about books and poetry and Kili's childhood. With some surprise Brona learned that Kili was not only the youngest of the company but was also one of Thorin's nephews. "You must have many tales of exploits involving him." She had said, a hint of mischief swirling in her eyes. Kili's grin grew, "Perhaps I do, lovely lady, but I have to withhold some stories for a later date, otherwise you'll get bored and never want to talk to me again!" He exclaimed, waving his arms wildly.

She paused for a moment, she wasn't expecting them to stay long enough to get to know them. Yet she didn't have the heart to reject the boy. "Nonsense, kind ser!" She said, equally as enthusiastically, while slapping his arm playfully. "To tire of you would be to tire of joy itself, it seems!"

Kili recoiled theatrically, then fanned himself with his hand, fluttering his eyelashes at her. "My Lady, you flatterer!"

Brona's face hurt from smiling so much, but she found that she didn't mind it. She appreciated the ache, she hadn't laughed this hard in a long time and it had been even longer since felt this sort of easy comraderie with another person.

" _Fili_!" At Kili's outburst, her attention snapped to the entrance of the room. Leaning against the empty arch, an easy smile plastered across his face was another dwarf- Kili's brother, if she remembered correctly. He was much fairer than Kili, but they had similar smiles, she noticed. The same dimple in their left cheek.

"We've been looking for you all over for you. Thorin wants to hold a 'company meeting'."He sent her an apologetic grin and she waved him off with a light smile. He seemed to have made himself quite comfortable and Brona was unnerved at the thought that he may have been watching their interactions for some time.

"Brother!" Kili bounded up from where he sat to his brother. "Brona once housed the current Steward of Gondor's son here, isn't that fascinating!"

She felt her cheeks heat up as the eyes turned to her, and she waved them off. "Its not _that_ interesting. Ill escort you to your guest house."

"Isn't she such a charming hostess Fili!" The young dwarf sent her a wink, and she smothered down giggles at his brothers eye rolls. They all shared a smile.

Brona rose with the sun. She had much to do, especially now that she was joined by over a dozen people. She had peeked in at the dwarves earlier while leaving their freshly washed clothes at the door, and it seemed positively stifling. The guest house was huge and even had a hearth large enough to cook a deer in it, but they all slept close together, almost piled one atop another. They were the definition of coziness, but Brona shuddered to think how hot it must be under all those blankets.

The soft dirt that she lay on was in complete contrast with the dwarves sleeping arrangement. Her toes and fingers burrowed into the cool soil and the dewy grass stroked her sides. She breathed evenly. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. The familiarity of the routine was comforting.

She could feel the earth thrumming far beneath her. Its gentle beating warmed her entire being, she could feel its energy rising up to curl and coil inside her.

A throat cleared from above her and her eyes flew open.

She scowled as the Istar's blue eyes twinkled down at her. He held out a hand, and she allowed him to pull her to her feet. For a few moments they both watched as wisps of smoke wafted from his pipe into the brightening morning sky. "Its a rather interesting group you've assembled,"

She eyed him as he chuckled. "I'm not coming. Not this time." His smile dropped into a frown and Brona felt a slight twinge of amusement run through her. _Am I not playing to your tune, wizard?_

She turned her eyes back to the sky. Blue seeped into reds into oranges and the stars had disappeared almost completely. The fiery red gave her a sense of melancholy and with a sigh she turned back to Gandalf. "I don't know what quest you've put together this time, and quite frankly, I don't care" she raised a hand to silence him, and his lips pressed together under his thick beard. "But, I've heard the stories of Thorin Oakenshield and the difficulties he has faced."

Brona paused for a moment, mulling over what she would say next. With a slight sigh, she continued "But I will help you. I will restock your supplies with as much as your ponies can carry, and I will allow you to stay for a week to recuperate, at most." She turned to him, a hardness in her eyes that the wizard had never seen before. "Gandalf, this wont be an easy journey. If what the rumours say are true, the perils these men will face..." She shook her head, envisioning the lovely Hobbit, who had such little world experience, planted into the centre of a disastrous war. Kili's sunny smile entered her mind, and it warped and distorted, until he was tired and sickly, blue veins in a striking, gruesome contrast to his pallid skin. The company will return different men, those that _do_ return. She blinked away the images. "They will need as much help as they can possibly get."

"Agreed."

When he responded, Brona promptly turned on her heel and fled back to her house, Gandalf's gaze following her with worry. The person he saw before him was changed. She was sterner, more serious. Gandalf puffed away on his pipe as his initial thought only grew stronger. She needs this quest, just as much as the hobbit. Perhaps even more so.

 **Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please do tell me your thoughts! There will be plenty of interaction between Brona and Kili, because I have such a soft spot for him. In fact, a ton of interaction between almost _all_ the dwarves and Brona will be coming up soon! Until next time, Sec.**


	4. Chapter 4

The air was decidedly light as they all ate, the dwarves chattered and joked with one another, just as amiable as the last few nights; but she could still feel their eyes on her. Their gazes raked over her as if she were a puzzle that they couldn't understand. By now, she was almost resigned to it. Whenever a visitor came, they always had questions.

She watched each of them in silence, once again she enjoyed just being present among such camaraderie. They were a rather enthusiastic group, she thought while stirring the soup. She paused, subtly lifting the bowl to her nose. Her nose scrunched when the smell hit her. With a sigh, she dropped her bowl to the table, leaving it untouched for the rest of the meal.  
They had decided to dine inside today, as a storm was passing overhead, and the dwarves found that they had had enough of foul weather for the moment. A shadow moved in the corner of her eye, and she moved to the other side of the room faster than anyone could perceive.  
"Please don't touch that."  
Nori wasnt shocked - he was in shock. The human woman's hand clasped his wrist tightly, his fingertips having barely brushed the shining wooden doorknob. He had been snooping through her house all day now, and this was the only actual door that could be found in her home. From outside, where it should open, there was nothing but the mismatched brick and wood wall. Which made no sense, as the wall was much too thin to not have even a dent, where it was inlaid into the wall.  
The room had fallen into silence. Nori slithered his way out of her grasp with what he hoped was a charming smile. "Very sorry, I thought that was the door to the bathroom."

She hummed in response, watching him like a hawk as he slid back into his seat. Her hand dropped to the doorknob, briefly tracing the four paint blobs on each side. Clearing her throat, she leaned against the door, effectively blocking any other prying dwarvish eyes.  
Gandalf stood, hands clasped like a child being called to the headmasters office. "I'd like your opinion on something, Brona." He produced a roll of parchment from within his robes, unfurling it on the table. Her interest peaked as she moved closer to realise it was a tattered map. She heard a sharp intake of breath, and lifting her eyes locked gazes with Thorin. The older dwarf beside him had stiffened, glaring at her with all the fury of a badger who's food had been stolen.

She quirked a brow, hand hovering above the map. Thorin was wrestling with something in his mind, yet eventually nodded his consent. Brona traced the hard lines of the map. Despite how worn it was, and its obvious dwarvish origins, it was of splendid craftsmanship.

Her brows pinched together - there was something else, she could feel it. A type of warmth lay there, just below the surface. Her fingertips swept over the tiny, intricately painted red dragon.  
Glancing at each of the dwarves, she smiled coyly. With a hand outstretched across the map she muttered words, much too quiet and fast for even Bifur, who sat just to her left shoulder, to hear. She traced the outline of the map with her middle finger then slashed a line across the parchment from corner to corner.

There was a sharp intake of breath from the room as the surface of the map shimmered. A silvery, indistinguishable writing appeared around the map for just a moment before fading back to what it was before.  
Brona leaned back against the door with a short laugh. "Well that is a very expensive map. How did you say you came across it?" 

"They're moon runes. That's all I can tell you, I know nothing more!" After her spell, the room had exploded. Brona had been thrown insults from all sides, being called a 'witch' and 'unnatural' - The usual things, really. Thorin had quickly snatched the map from her grasp, tucking it into his coat. Gandalf had then led the leader and Brona to her private bedroom, at the highest point of her home.  
Despite her disorientation enchantments, which she often put up around her bedroom when people visited, they couldn't quite shake off the elderly dwarf with the white beard. Which was why he was now perched on Brona's bed, pouring over the map, discreetly seeing if she damaged it in any way.  
"What I did was a simple spell of revelation, alright? Now, you need someone to read the runes."  
"If you could tell what they were, you must be able to tell what they say to some extent." Bronas eyes flicked heavenwards at the elders skewed logic.  
"Even the most well learned scholar wouldn't be able to tell you, because you dwarves don't share your knowledge outside of your own race! Not to mention, this is an ancient, dead language."  
Thorin, Brona noticed, had been silent for some time, but judging by the tightness in his gaze, she knew he agreed.

"What about a translation spell?"  
"Mere minutes ago you were calling me an abomination, and now you want my magic?"

"Enough!" Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose "we're getting nothing done here. Brona, what would you have us do?"  
Stunned, she floundered under his stern gaze. "Well, uh, you would need to find someone to read the runes." She said, instantly cringing. Obviously.  
But Oakenshield was still looking at her, so, straightening her back and glancing at the map again, she spoke as regally as she could "Well my bets for a scholar would be on Minas Tirith or Rivendell. Since your quest is meant to be secret and low profile, however, and Gondor would take months out of your journey. Oh look! Rivendell is actually in the direction you're going anyway. Oh, or maybe even Lorien," Realising that she wasnt meant to know of their destination, she coughed "Hypothetically."

The atmosphere of the room turned icy and too late did she realise her mistake. "You would have us conspire with our sworn enemies? Why wo-"  
"No," Thorin's cool glare faltered for a moment, but that was all she needed to leap to her defense. "There will be no conspiring. All you're doing is... Trading knowledge, getting what you need. And the elves of Rivendell aren't the ones you hold a grudge against. That would be the Mirkwood brood."  
"Thorin, we don't have to agree to this, I'm sure that between ourselves and Ori, we could understand the map."

When Balin hurriedly spoke Brona threw her head back in a groan. This is why I don't deal with dwarves.  
"You would rather understand only snippets of the map rather than go to a scholar who has a full understanding of it? For the sake of your pride?"  
"This has nothing to do with pride-"  
"You don't even know when the map will be readable-"  
"Stop," Thorin's said, running his hands over his face. She and Balin exchanged venomous looks." I'll need to think about this."  
"Of course." Brona nodded stiffly at Oakenshield, slightly relieved that she didn't have to argue anymore. "You can stay to gather your bearings until the week is up. I'll equip you with as much supplies as your pony's can carry."

"I'm grateful for your assistance."  
Her head jerked in a nod, watching as the dwarves filed out of her room. Before he could leave, she grabbed Thorin elbow gently. "Your mission is an honourable one, but every great leader must discard his own pride for his people. I think you know that better than anyone else."

Clenching his jaw, Thorin nodded, sweeping through the feathered curtain.

Brona watched him with growing unease; when it came to the higher class it was easy to speak of the hypothetical, she really hoped Thorin was grounded enough to realise what was better for his company.

Brona sighed, flopping onto her blankets, arms stretched wide open. She scowled over at her friend, who sat smoking happily.  
"I feel like I need to put a sign up, or write a rulebook for your little quests. From now on, No Dwarves Allowed will be rule number one."  
Gandalf choked on his pipeweed. Gasping for breath, the grey wizard wiped a tear from his eye. "You don't mean that!"  
"Oh but I do. Rule number two will be No Istari, especially grey ones."  
Chortling heartily, Gandalf extinguished his pipe.

"Are you quite certain you don't want to tag along?"

"Gandalf, as much as I've said it in the past, I can tell you now that I have never been more certain of anything."

The wizard sniggered into his hand and Brona's scowl deepened. "Don't you laugh at me, did you not see the state of my pools?! And they've been treading soot all over my carpets!" she flew upright, arms waving wildly, "And don't even get me started on the obnoxious amount of meat they've been dragging in here! It's barbaric! And that smell." a disgusted grunt left her mouth as she shudders.

Gandalf clapped the fuming woman on the shoulder, "Get some rest Brona, I want you to read some cards tomorrow."

The woman's scowl deepened, "Fine. I'll do the runes and cards, but if you ever, ever ask me to read their palms, I will throw you out before you can say Arda."

He nodded with a complacent smile, and she knew he wasn't taking heed of her. "I'm serious Gandalf, that is where I draw the line," she swiped a hand through the air before her "I will not perform parlour tricks for those dwarves."

He hummed, and patted her head as you would a kitten. "Goodnight, dear."

.

.

 ** _Hi there! Me again, I really hope you're all enjoying Brona, as Im enjoying writing her, but I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter tbh. I just figured that I had kept rewriting it fir too long. I just wanted it out so I can move on, so I hope it's not too bad! Thank you to my amazing reviewers and followers, you really mean so much to me! Sec xx_**


End file.
